


Interlude

by DragonBandit



Series: Kink Night [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Mentions of kink, mentions of past sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 07:02:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2842262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonBandit/pseuds/DragonBandit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night and day after. And then a bit more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me if I need to tag anything. 
> 
> Autoresponder = Hal  
> Brobot = Tim
> 
> Because it seems that one person liked it and this has been rotting in my folders since November.

 

Hal has a hickey on his neck. A dark one, perfectly framed by his clavicles. He touches it absently. It’s been three days since he went to the club, and the side affects of his visit have yet to have gone away completely.

Most of them are easily hidden under clothes. He wears long sleeves anyway, no one is going to comment on it. Especially not in November.

The hickey is another matter. The first day, Hal had panicked. None of his shirts had high enough collars to hide the damn thing, and no way was he just walking around with the mark visible for all to see.

Even discounting all the other terrible reasons, Dirk would have freaked. And then demanded to know where Hal had gotten it, and from who, and it would have ended up being a massive pain in the ass. And not even in the fun way.

So far he’s gotten around hiding it by the careful application of band aids. It’s better than nothing. Dirk accepted katana accident as the cause. A stupid move, considering where the hickey is but Hal isn’t going to complain.

Instead he’s going to try and forget the feelings that he is 99% sure are seared into his brain. It was only one night but what a night it was. First sex Hal gets in years and it’s that? He’s still reeling from it.

He expects he will for a long time. Fuck, it’s good dream material for the rest of his life. Best first time ever. He fails to care that it’s not his real first time, it’s a far better one and he’s keeping it.

Tim, some man he met in a club and then never saw again.

So much better than almost rape.

He lasts three weeks on dreams. That and a lot of time spent alone when Dirk is at work, or merely at a friends house. Fuck, he was right. Tim ruined him for marriage, for life.

But even dreams run out eventually. There’s only so much Hal can stand porn where the details are just slightly wrong to be enjoyable.

There is no actor who has that kind of hair that isn’t billed as a silver fox. Especially not with the right skin tone. They never have the right piercings, and Hal wrote off on finding tattoos within the first five results.

That’s even ignoring the things they say. He’d watch porn muted if he could but it loses something that way. The lines are terrible. He can’t believe it and he--

Tim wouldn’t say that.

It seems Hal’s managed to build a slight obsession with him. Not that it means anything. It was just good sex, and his body and mind knows it. He just wants to have it again, and his mind is filling in the blanks as best it can.

Eventually though, it spirals back to the cause of all of this.

The club.

The website is there when he types the correct URL. It’s exactly the same as Hal remembers it. Except for the banner advertising the next kink night.

Dolls.

Interesting.

Maybe Tim will be there.

* * *

  
  


Porrim slides into the seat next to Tim in the apartment he shares with Cronus. She’s smirking, the way she always is when she has gossip in mind. Judging by the way Cronus is away at a party he will almost certainly not get laid at, Tim thinks he knows what kind of gossip she wants to talk about.

He’s proven right when she starts with; “So you had fun last night.”

Tim ducks his head, blush spreading across his face. He thanks that it can’t be seen thanks to his dark skin.

“He was very cute,” Porrim says, taking his body language as an actual response. She’s good at doing that, one of the reasons Tim likes her so much. “Your type entirely.”

“Thank you.” Tim says.

Porrim grins. “Someday you won’t have to thank me for whatever mind-blowing sex you have.”

Tim shrugs. He doubts it. Talking is always difficult, and in the club it gets worse. He’s better at staying in the shadows until Porrim pushes him enough into acting. As she had last night by bringing Hal over to the booth Tim had been perfectly content in staying in for the rest of the night.

“Do I get to know the details?” She pouts.

“Voyeur.” Tim says. Not really meaning it.

“You know me.”

He smirks at her. She laughs, getting the joke instantly.

“He was nice.” Tim says. He smiles at the table.

Hal had been very nice. Soft and eager and responsive. Not to mention so very pretty. Gorgeous under the lights of the club. And gorgeous again when Tim made him come for the third time.

“Do you think he’ll be there again?” Porrim asks idly.

Tim shrugs. He doesn’t know. Hal and he hadn’t talked much about things of that nature. Hadn’t really talked at all to be honest. Hal doesn’t feel like it but he is essentially a stranger to Tim.

The thought makes something in his stomach twinge.

“You do know what next theme night is, right?” Porrim says. Her tone of voice is one of self satisfied glee. Tim shakes his head, wondering what she’s so happy about.

Porrim runs the suggestions for the club. A side job, more of a hobby really. For when she doesn’t have to work with Cronus and business at her tattoo and piercings parlor is running slow.

“What?”

“Dolls.” Porrim says. Tim looks up, noticing her smirk.

“Oh.” He says. Like he hasn’t just been told that his biggest kink is the one being showcased at the club. Like his libido hadn’t just raised it’s head and practically drooled.

“Maybe I’ll find you another pretty person to play with. You’d like that right?”

Tim nods. “Thank you.”

The part of his brain still thinking about last time conjures up the image of Hal. Pretty and pliant and wonderful.

Tim ducks his head to the table again, feeling a blush spread across his face.

Maybe Hal will be there, his head whispers. Maybe Hal will play with him again.

* * *

 

Dolls. Hal thinks. What do dolls wear? What do they look like? How is he going to make himself look like one?

The internet is a big help. Apparently there are many people who want to make themselves look like dolls. Not that big of a surprise. Hal has seen worse things people have wanted to look like and dolls are cute.

The internet also informs him that the ideal clothes are very expensive. Expensive he can deal with. Hal is technically as rich as he wants to be thanks to being the kid of David Strider, famous director of who-fucking-cares.

However, as well as being expensive they also tend to be made in countries that aren’t the US. As a result, most of them won’t come in time for him to wear them. Making it worthless for him to buy them in the first place.

It seems he’s going to have to find another place to gather the clothes.

He knew he would have to do that to begin with. He doesn’t know how to use makeup, something he needs to get proficient in if he wants to look anything like a doll. Tutorials help, but there is no way he’s going to be able to get to the level of skill he really needs here.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to.

Fefeta can do it for him.

Which is how he ends up wearing a pink lace dress as the only girl smaller than Hal frowns critically at him.

“Pinks not really your colour,” She says finally.

Hal sighs. This is the sixth dress he’s been pushed into. So far he’s learned that pink, and lilac, and yellow are not good shades on his body. He’s also learned that Fefeta has a truly fearsome collection of both makeup and clothes. As can be expected considering what family she’s related to.

When he had proposed his plan to her he had not expected it to take this long. All he had wanted was one dress, his face made up so he could see what it would look like, and maybe the leggings she used to be the nutcracker with last year for one of the plays Fefeta is always involved with somehow or other.

He swears one year she had six scripts. Six of them. Far too many. He still doesn’t understand how she managed to learn all the parts.

“I’m sure you have yet another suggestion for what I should wear,” he says, gesturing to the walk in closet that in Hal’s flat could have dwarfed the entirety of the kitchen and living room combined.

She grins at him. Hal now understands what Erisol meant when he warned him to never, ever, no seriously Hal don’t do it you will seriously regret it, do anything clothes related with Fefeta.

Oops?

She has no idea what he wants the clothes for as well. A fact that Hal intends to remain the case. There’s no need for her to know that he wants this for sex.

He’s not quite sure if he would survive the punishment he would get for ruining her innocence. She has very scary relatives. Hal’s not willing to try it.

All he wants is the dress and for her to do his makeup. Then he’s going to go to a “Party”. Fefeta will never know the truth of what happened at that party.

Hal hopes.

In the end he doesn’t end up with a dress. Instead Fefeta drags out an outfit that consists of shorts and a button up shirt. As well as a double breasted coat. All of it in greys and dark purples. Maybe too dark for his complexion, but it’s the best thing Fefeta and he can find without trawling through the entirety of her collection of clothes.

The makeup is next. Fefeta rambling on how he’s never taken an interest in this stuff before and Hal deflecting her effortlessly. She doesn’t really care why he’s taken an interest, Hal is sure. She’s just happy that she has another friend to play dress up with.

She styles his hair in loose waves. It falls around a face that’s had all the tiny flaws in the skin carefully removed.

He stares at himself in the mirror. With the tights giving his knees ball joints, and the style of the clothes, and the rest of it, Hal has to admit that he does look like a doll. Hopefully a pretty enough one that someone will play with him. He’ll have to buy shoes, but thankfully those are easy to find.

“You can do this for me again in two weeks?” he asks, examining every detail of himself.

“Sure,” Fefeta chirps.

Hal smiles.

It seems like he’s all set then. All he needs to do is wait. He can do that.


End file.
